


Firelight

by arctickchild



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:37:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arctickchild/pseuds/arctickchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She hasn't had a night like it since.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firelight

The firelight dances off his skin as he laughs, revealing two rows of perfect, glistening white teeth; two rows of complete perfection that betray none of the danger contained within his very existence. His eyes glow, radiating warmth and life he doesn't have. The night is loud and wild around him; but he is untouched, part of the scene but not part of the world.

She approaches him slowly, cautiously. His beauty, his scent, his voice draw her in, entrap her in promises of a long night, a slow night, full of heat and passion that will never exist. The others keep their distance; something about this man, this beautiful, alluring man, puts them off, sends shivers snaking down their spines and into their souls. But she has always been the most daring, the most stubborn - or, as her friends like to say, the most foolish. It doesn't matter. What matters is that she is the one who stays when all the others flee for their beds in the cool, pre-dawn hours.

"Hello," she says, and his eyes flash with an almost animalistic gleam as he smiles, leaning back and looking her over. It's... unsettling, in a way, the manner he tracks her movements like a caged beast. Still, she keeps approaching, growing closer and closer to the dying fire.

"Hello," he echoes softly, and then offers her his hand. "Would you like to dance?"

She hesitates; it is a strange request, but this place is strange. Every instict she has tells her to run, to get in her truck and flee; but the firelight in his eyes and her own human stubbornness have trapped her.

"There's no music," she points out, and takes his hand. Something about him entrances her, pulls her closer and deeper into his gaze, his embrace, until his arms are wrapped around her and he is humming softly in her ear. It's a song she recognizes, soft and hypnotic, but she can't but a name to it, or its artist.

His breath is cold against her neck, distracting. She takes a deep breath to steady herself.

"What's your name?" she asks, swaying slightly in time with the music. The man's lips are on her neck, and she shudders as they move over her heated skin, like stone against the smooth skin of a newborn babe.

"Edward," he tells her, still humming the same haunting melody. She nods, letting his name echo through her mind and etch itself into her memory. He moves closer to her, kissing her neck softly, slowly, as if savoring the smell of a home cooked meal before he takes the first bite.

"What're you humming?" she asks, knowing it will likely haunt her for months if she doesn't remember.

He smiles against her neck, his lips pressed against her pulse. "Nocturne," he says. She smiles, relaxing into his embrace. The fire is dying behind her, but she can see the first grey light of dawn slinking over the horizon.

"Right," she murmurs. She can't think very clearly. "By, uhm. By... what's his name again?"

The man reaches up to run a thumb over her neck, gentle and hard. Like marble.

"Debussy," he says, and then his teeth sink into her neck.


End file.
